


What is lost will be found

by ObsidianWings_666



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alpha Rick Grimes, Alpha Shane Walsh, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Beta Lori Grimes, F/M, M/M, Mpreg, Omega Daryl Dixon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-08-06 19:36:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16393877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsidianWings_666/pseuds/ObsidianWings_666
Summary: Darryl's been missing for over a year, trapped in his own personal version of hell with no way out, but now he's got more than just himself to fight for. Rick is looking for two lost omega kids, certain that no amount of clever police work or brilliant Sherlock-level sleuthing will bring them back from the clutches of omega sex traffickers. Two lost and desperate souls find each other in the decaying ruins of Sunnyview trailer park; can they make it out again?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! So this is my first ever Rickyl story, but I am madly in love with these two and I just could not get this story out of my head. Updates will be slow, but hopefully work and school will slow down enough for me to update at least twice a month, so now its out there in the universe that that is my goal! (Lets see if I can manage that oh dear). But anyways, ignore my ramblings and I hope you enjoy the first chapter of this story! It does have a happy ending, just so we are clear because I cannot do sad stories, I've cried over one too many to write some of my own. Enjoy and welcome to the journey!
> 
> Title is based on the song: When the Truth Hunts You Down by Sam Tinnesz

This kind of shit just doesn’t happen here.

 

It doesn't.

 

It shouldn't be happening now, he shouldn't be wondering around this trailer park, searching for any sign of the two missing omegas.

 

Scouting around the peeling paint and crumbling cement of old foundation bases, narrowly avoiding the local kid’s bikes tossed in the front yards, and all Rick could wonder about was how they would ever find these poor kids in time.

 

There was no whiff of omega around this trailer. No hint of alpha either, just the bland, almost completely blank scent of beta. Looked like another dead end, to a trail that had never really been any more than a series of dead ends to begin with.

 

They had been missing for over 24 hours now, with no ransom demands or cryptic phone calls made; no bad guys to push the blame upon. No leads. No eye-witnesses. It was like they'd just disappeared into thin air, snatched right in front of their houses mere hours between each other.

 

Rick thinks back to the parents, recalling in far too vivid technicolor detail, just how very awful that conversation had gone. When they had to break the news that they didn’t believe that these kidnappers would be demanding a ransom or anything at all from the parents. That maybe, just maybe but still distinctly possible, these people only wanted the children for what they could sell them for at an omega black market.

 

They kept that small detail to themselves, he and Shane, because to point it out to already grieving parents would have been akin to flaying them alive. Even worse than the pain they were already in over not knowing who had their children or what could be happening to them in the hands of unknown individuals.

 

It's a crushing pressure on Rick’s conscious. It feels like his chest might explode, his mind overrun with doubts at every dead end they encountered, at every false lead that only led to some other asshole demanding the reward money offered by the parents in a desperate bid to find their little ones. It sickened him, to know that this could still happen, even in a town as small as his own. He’d only been a cop for ten years, but the biggest case he’d ever worked had been a drug ring that ended up imploding on itself when the henchmen became too greedy and they all shot each up one grey spring night, leaving the town just a little bit quieter than it usually was.

 

That case had opened Rick’s eyes to just how dangerous his chosen career could be. He’d had to take stock in what was important to him, especially when a bullet missed him by mere centimeters. He’d almost left his son alone in this world, left him to rely on Shane for guidance in life. Not that Shane would be terrible as a father, but Rick didn't want Shane to be his son’s only influence growing up. There was a touch too much Alpha in Shane to be safe sometimes, not like Rick who was constantly being accused of being a Beta by his wife Lori.

 

_You’re just too mild mannered, too slow to anger. Not enough fire to be a real alpha. Not enough fire to fight for us; for me._

 

But Lori was gone now, moved out a year ago after Rick refused to change who he was just for her delicate sensibilities. He would never be that overprotective, Neanderthal alpha she claimed she wanted and needed. Would never be able to make her truly happy. It was best to separate before their relationship became so toxic that it began to affect Carl too.

 

Shaking his head, Rick looked around quickly, assessing the area again before continuing to move forward.

 

Shane was scouting around the other side of the park, setting up a perimeter before circling back around to Rick again.

 

They were bother searching earnestly for the scent of scared, pained omega, hopefully one that would also be colored with the soft floral scent of an omega just before puberty. It was difficult to sort out the scents floating from out of the trailers and backyards of the park. So many of them were an abstract mix of beta, alpha and omega that it was kind of like sorting through a thousand pebbles looking for that one tiny piece of quartz at the bottom of the pile. Some of the slowly decaying homes, with their ramshackle porches and tarps covering yards to create makeshift garages, had the unpleasant addition of over spilling garbage as well, not to mention the surplus of animals running from house to house, just adding to the cauldron of overwhelming scents.

 

Rick honestly had no idea where to start, as the lead had only said to get down to the Sunnyview trailer park as soon as possible before something terrible happened to the missing omegas. In the back of his mind a thought was rattling around Rick’s subconscious, softly whispering that maybe there were more than just two omegas missing in a town where no one should ever go missing without at least three neighbors calling the police out of concern. But sometimes people were slippery, and someone may have slipped through the cracks of society as people are liable to do. Rick hoped against all reason that this was not the case, and that this particular outing would result in the happy return of the two omegas to their grieving parents.

 

Rick had never been a good optimist.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

He had to piss again. It was an ever-present problem now, encroaching on every corner of his day, and shortening his hours of sleep to a handful on the best days. His bottle in the corner was constantly in danger of overflowing, and if it spilled on the floor again he knew he would be forced to clean it with his tongue. It had happened before, the last time he had been held in place for too long and accidentally emptied his bladder on the squalid, stained green carpet. It was so threadbare in places that the urine had pooled as if it was a hardwood floor. The Alpha using Daryl at the time had kept thrusting into his hole, not stopping until the smell had started to waft up from the floor, and when it did he wrinkled his nose and slapped Daryl so hard his ears had rung for days.

 

He’d lost a little more hair that day as well; Alphas were rarely concerned about damaging his beauty by ripping out chunks of hair. He supposed it was some kind of power trip for them as well, to have a helpless omega thoroughly knotted on their cocks and unable to get away, only to be further humiliated by having their heads controlled by a harsh grip to the hair. Needless to say, his hair had been pulled roughly by the ham-fisted man and his face thrust firmly into the threadbare, puke green carpet. The threads and exposed cheap wood flooring dug into his cheek, and splinters were a real possibility, but Darryl went limp immediately in the Alpha’s hold. Any further struggle would draw unnecessary attention to himself and he needed to keep his belly as unnoticeable as physically possible. Hunching his back slightly, he whimpered quietly and relaxed in the tight hold.

 

“That’s better. Lick up that disgusting mess you made, omega whore. Can’t even trust you not to piss all over while being fucked, I should get my money back for this shit.” The Alpha punctuated every slur with a sharp shake of Daryl’s head. His ears began to ring again, and he worried, not for the first time that day, if he would pass out for good this time.

 

Gritting his teeth against the pain and dizziness, Daryl had begun to slowly lick the floor clean, grimacing against the salty taste of his own waste. It was small miracle that there wasn’t much to clean up, but by that point he was pretty sure he was too dehydrated to produce more than the barest amount of waste anyways.  

 

It wouldn’t be the first concussion he had received while in Joe’s possession, but it still rankled that he couldn't even raise his voice against the abusive pig. Not unless he wanted to be starved again. Last time it had been a week. By the time Joe had opened the door, Daryl had been begging, crying and holding his small belly tight in pain and desperation. He had spilled from the closet, grabbed onto the alpha’s dirty grey sweatpants, and promised him he would never speak again while in use if only he could have at least one meal a day. Just one meal, even if it was only a loaf of bread, “Please just don’t starve me again!”

 

He was not rewarded for his begging with anything but a snarl of indignation and a swift kick to the back once he had been thrown off of his alpha’s pant leg. He could only curl into a tight ball, presenting his delicate vertebrae to the enraged man and praying that he wouldn’t break too many ribs this time. He wasn’t sure he could stand it again if one of his lungs became damaged and he spent all night choking on his own blood. Joe had used him quickly that day and thrown him back into the cupboard with a loaf of moldy bread and a half-empty bottle of water. Come had slid sluggishly down Darryl’s skinny thigh as he picked around the mold surrounding the bread already and in the end, he had to consume more mold than probably healthy for human beings anyways. It was better than starvation.

 

Darry had stretched that water out for three days. He was locked in for at least five days that time, with only a few Alphas in-between for very unwelcome company. That was a better week than most, if Darryl was brutally honest.  

 

Today was not one of the better days.

 

Joe had dragged him out of his closet, leering at his dirty, grey boxer clad body, and thrown him onto the couch in the back room. Just as filthy as the rest of the tiny trailer, this room had the added horror of reeking of omega pain and blood, slick and alpha come. Little rays of sunlight were streaming in through the ripped curtains over the trailer windows, but Darryl still had no clue what time it could possibly be. He had no access to a clock after all. Joe wasn’t worth talking to about anything usually, and any sign of disobedience or curiosity on Darryl’s part would result in just another beating and a particularly long night with a cruel john.

 

“ _Present_!” Joe snarled in his Alpha voice, cuffing Darryl across the back of the head before he could even begin to move forwards.

 

Darryl quickly dove off the couch and fell to his knees; bent over, face and chest to the floor, ass in the air for easy access. His face still burned with humiliation over the exposed position, but he dared not to close his legs or draw any undue attention to himself. Closing his eyes against the humiliation that never left, no matter how many times he had been forced into this position, he braced himself for whatever Joe choose to do next.

 

Unsurprisingly, Joe pulled down his dirty boxers and threw them into the corner of the room. It’s not like the ripped, once white but now a mottled grey, boxers provided Darryl with any real covers at this point in time. There was so much omega slick, alpha come, and blood mixed into them that Darryl half expected them to disintegrate or crawl away at any time. But they did give him a sense of protection, to have his genitals covered even the smallest bit, and he hoped that Joe would be kind enough to throw them back into his closet with him whenever he finished using him.  

 

Darryl kept his face pressed into the dirty hardwood floor, keeping his eyes resolutely closed. His teeth were gritted to ensure his continued silence, and he listened with bated breath for the sound he was so intimately familiar with after over a year of living in this hell.


	2. Disordered Living

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, we'll get to Daryl in the next chapter! Hope you all enjoy and I'll bust out the Daryl backstory chapter and post again hopefully within a week.

All by myself, don’t wanna be, all by myselfffff

Rick shook his head, trying to silence the song that had been on repeat in his head ever since leaving the barracks alone again. 

When Lori and he had been together, not happy but still putting up a good front of being the perfect mated pair, Shane had been a staple passenger on his short ride home. They would pile into Rick’s beat up pickup, the absolute bane of Lori’s existence if you asked her about it, and drive on home to a home cooked meal with Rick’s little family. The chicken would be dry, the potatoes would be lumpy, and the beans would probably resemble mush more than actual food, but they would smile and kiss Lori on the cheek in thanks anyways. 

The meal would conclude with a couple of beers on the porch after Carl had been entertained with the craziest stories of the day and Lori had kicked them out into the year before they could taint Carl’s young ears with vulgar profanities and the ugliness of the world. Shane would look at Rick over the top of his beer and declare him the luckiest bastard in the world, to be able to go home everyday and see his beautiful Beta mate and cub, and to know that he would never have a cold, lonely bed to go home to after a long shift. Rick would just nod along and agree because how could he tell Shane, his childhood friend, that putting on a front was all his little family was really good for anymore. 

He certainly didn't feel good enough for Lori anymore. In truth, he really hasn't felt good enough for Lori since the first time she compared him to Shane as the “weaker Alpha friend.” At that moment he should have put a stop to the relationship but Lori was beautiful, smart and sweet in every other aspect, and he couldn't get her caramel-colored eyes or light lilac scent out of his head long enough to consider that comment a true deal breaker. 

Their relationship had progressed quickly after high school, from losing their virginities to each other on prom night, getting pregnant with Carl halfway through Rick’s police academy training, to their subsequent mating in secret to maintain Lori’s reputation as good ole’ Southern girl. After Rick had finished his training and accepted his job as a deputy in the King’s County Sheriff's Department, they had moved back to King County, Georgia and settled down in a small three-bedroom home. It wasn't much, and it certainly wasn't the grand southern mansion that Lori had always fantasized they would live in once they were mated and settled down, but Rick was barely making ends meet with the small house, a baby and a wife to care for at home and they had to settle for smaller in the end. 

He remembers Lori’s first look around the house, how she had wrinkled her nose at the small bedrooms and attic room at the top of the house. How she had wondered around the backyard ithe large fence separating their property from the elderly couples next door, and questioned the realtor on every single little detail, no matter how non-essential it may have been.   
She had looked at Rick with disappointment in her eyes when they signed the lease after four weeks of arguing back and forth over the smaller house and a much larger, extremely overpriced Victorian on the other side of town. Rubbing her small belly, she was only five months along at the time, she had sighed deeply and walked out of the meeting before the ink had even dried and sat silently the whole car ride back to their tiny one-bedroom apartment. 

Rick would just shake his head at Shane’s friendly jealousy, secretly still proud that he was able to beat SHane to Lori’s heart but at the same time aware that spilling all of his marriages dirty secrets would benefit no one in the long run. 

Maybe he should have bitched to Shane. Just let loose and spilled the beans. Told him about the many nights on the couch, feet freezing as he tried to cover up with one of Carl's old blankets that would never cover a full grown man. Confided in Shane that the sex had dried up shortly after Carl was born and that Lori threw him a dirty look if he even attempted to touch her. How he was drowning in his own insecurities and doubts, how he felt that he was failing his family just by existing somedays. How he hoped every single day and with every fiber of his being that Lori would just throw the divorce papers and a pen at him already. 

But he doesn't. 

He drinks his beer and lets Shane believe that marriage is flowers and rainbows and miraculous glitter shitting unicorns. Shane needs to keep that hope alive. If he didn't have that spark of boyish joy and naivety RIck is afraid to find out what sort of person shane could turn into. Sometimes he's too much. Sometimes he looks at Shane, when they're chasing after a criminal on foot and both their alphas are fighting for dominance and he sees Shanes eyes. Their red and feral, right on the edge of control and loss, and he doesn't know if Shane could pull back once the alpha had taken over. 

Alphas live in constant fear of being pushed to the feral edge. It's just their nature, like omegas who are driven to protect their young at the expense of their own lives sometimes and how betas are a happy neutral and never live in fear that their entire existence could be wiped out in a fit of rage gone too far. Alphas don't come back from being feral. There is no role reversal, no switching back no pumping the brakes and going back to normal. They stay feral until the day they die, which is faster then usual seeing as they burn themselves out being feral. Something in the human body system cannot sustain the feral portion of their nature for longer than few weeks. Their bodies burn up and they die washed out shells, usually in captivity because they killed someone in their feral rage. 

“Yeah, I’m one lucky bastard” Rick says with a smirk, taking a quick chug of his beer to quench the burning inthe back of his throat. 

Shane raises his beer in agreement, takes a relaxed sip and resumes looking out at the Georgia sunset peeking over the low-lying mountains just visible over the fence.   
Maybe if I’d been a little more observant, I could have caught them in the act instead of having the rug pulled out from under me. 

Rick knew for months that something had finally broke for good with his and Lori’s relationship. They were more incompatible then they had ever been. Every conversation was a stilted, awkward affair that either ended in both parents walking away before any real emotions could poke through or Lori would start right out with screaming at him for one reason or another. Rick always walked away first. He knew he should stand his ground and fight back. Push for what he wanted, what he thought was best for their family. But it just became too much. 

Too much to fight constantly. Too much to watch Lori withdraw more and more. Watch her wither away, no longer the vibrant, energetic young woman but a shell of a human, grey and sad. Her eyes no longer shone with happiness but were shuttered and cold. Rick no longer tried to initiate physical contact. He’d been rebuffed so soundly the last time he’d tried to hug her that he couldn't bear the heartbreak again. 

They couldn't talk to each. They couldn't find the way back to where they started. And they certainly couldn't start all over again. It was time to move on. 

It was time to move on, time to leave behind half of his life and start partially over again. 

Rick just wished they could have waited a month before they moved in together, if not for his sake then Carl’s. 

It wasn’t until he spoke to Carl again on their second weekend alone together that he learned Lori was pregnant. Rick smiled and wished them both well, while deep inside he screamed internally over the unfairness of life.


	3. Just a memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl remembers and Merle is introduced.

There was a scratch on the upper left hand corner of his closet door. The only reason he could even see it was because it was so large and thick, carved as if with a talon instead of a fingernail that Daryl could only relate to the desperation in which the omega who clawed it must have felt. 

Daryl was becoming increasingly desperate to escape as well. The last round with Joe had resulted in more bleeding from his hole, and Daryl could hardly stand to sit without moaning in pain. He was forced to curl up on his side, trying to take pressure off of the low-burning throb that spread from his backside up into his spine and around to his belly. 

The pup was still too small to be felt, or at least that's what Daryl assumed seeing as his belly was barely even visible yet. No more than a small swelling between his hip bones that looked more like the beginnings of severe malnutrition then pregnancy. 

He knew what it meant though, the first time he missed his heat. He hadn’t missed a heat since coming off his suppressants after the first month locked in the closet. 

All Daryl could do was hope that a combination of continued starvation and daily beatings would result in an early miscarriage because in no way would he be able to raise a child in this environment. That is if Joe didn’t take the baby away and sell it to another unsavory individual before he could even dry it off or learn its unique scent. 

Daryl hadn’t always lived in a closet, thrown about by Alpha’s and used as no more than a sex toy. 

He had grown up in Charming, Georgia in a rundown shack of a house with his Daddy and older brother Merle. Momma was lost to them years before he was born, and the cigarette she left burning on the bed when he was seven took her physical body from the world as well. 

Merle and his daddy didn’t raise him up to be an Omega, no Daryl recalls more than a few conversations that started out with the phrase “Now you ain’t no simpering, pansy Omega bitch right?” 

And he would always yell back in the negative, firmly denying any relation to the Omegas his daddy and brother thought so little of. 

Daryl’s first heat struck late on at 16, when his daddy and Merle had long since declared him a Beta and written him off to be no more than an everybody type person.

Daryl recalls the morning where that all changed. Where life became infinitely more complicated. Where every choice he had to make was to cover up a secret. And where every time his Daddy knocked down his door and dragged him out of the house by his hair it was possibly because he’d finally found the stash of suppressants buried in the trailer’s wall. 

It was Merle that found him that fateful first morning, twisted in pain and whimpering lowly through the bedsheet stuffed in his mouth as a makeshift gag. 

Merle had found him, curled in the corner of his room ,whimpering and whining over the ache in his gut and the slick leaking steadily down the back of his thighs. 

Merle, surprisingly sober at this early hour, had been passing by on the way to bed from a night with his latest Omega conquest. He broke in Daryl’s door, whisper yelling “Wakey wakey Darleena it’s time for school!” only to be hit in the face with the scent of newly-presented Omega instead of his little brothers familiar scent of trees, smoke and blood. 

“Fuck, Daryl. Dammit, always knew you were just like Mama. Fucking damnit.” 

Merle shut the door quickly, so as not to wake thier daddy. They both knew what fate would befall Daryl if his Daddy were ever to find out he had sired an Omega. It had been bad enough that Daryl was thought to have been a Beta before he’d even truly presented. The scars over Daryl's left shoulder from Daddy’s belt were a result of that realization. Neither brother would put it past their daddy to sell Daryl off to settle his gambling debts or buy a couple bottles of liquor if he discovered the Omega living under his roof. 

“Come up here Darleena, lets get yah inta the shower quick before the ole’ man smells yah.” 

Merle had dragged him into the shower and thrown the water straight to cold, mouthin off the whole time. Merle did that, just talked and talked, round and round in circles till he finally came to some kind of conclusion. Made others think there wasn’t much going on upstairs, but Daryl knew his brother’s mind was whirring away trying to find a solution that wouldn't end in his baby brother disappearing.

Daryl shivered under the weak stream of dirty brown water, trying in vain to wash of the scent of fertile omega and slick from the backs of his thighs. Tears streamed down his face silently, Dixon boys weren’t bitches afterall, and he hid his face from Merle lest his brother discover even more reasons to consider him weak. Daryl knew he was weak, he hadn't needed the confirmation letter from Mother Nature to prove that. 

Daryl was the brother who cried in his closet at night while Dad destroyed the house trying to find someone to beat; he was the one who couldn’t get it through his thick skull that no Dixon parent would ever love a child as anything more than the money they could scrape from the county for putting a roof over their heads. 

Daryl was the one who looked at Merle for comfort, who couldn’t stop the small whimpers from leaking through clenched teeth as Merle poured whiskey over his back after Dad went too far with the belt again, and it was Daryl who still held the smallest of hopes in the back of his mind that love existed somewhere in the world. He wasn't naive enough to think it existed in that tiny, run-down, meant for the burnpile trailer on the outskirts of town, but he knew it was out there, had seen evidence of it in classmate’s families and siblings and snatched glimpses of love idealized by television shows through store windows. 

Daryl may have believed that love was real, but it didn’t matter now, and probably never would for him again. Being an Omega wasn’t a death sentence for normal folks. But normal folks didn’t have to learn how to stitch themselves together at seven years old with dental floss nicked from the drug stores and needles filched from a friendly neighbors sewing box. Normal folks, didn’t grow up knowing that the only thing worse than growing up a Dixon in the world, was to grow up a Dixon Omega. 

Every neighbor that had ever had the misfortune to be a Dixon neighbor at some point knew that Omega’s were ranked right down at the absolute bottom of the social pile in Mr. Dixon’s permanently red-rimmed eyes. They would shake their heads and whisper suspicions about how those two poor boys would present, hoping in the tiniest corners of their hearts that little Daryl Dixon would toughen up and become a Beta at least because no one could be so cruel as to make that boy shy and kind but also an Omega. The neighbors stopped looking and stopped wondering what would happen to the boys over the years. It’s a struggle to hold onto sympathy when surrounded by the same terrible, neverending situation every single day for ten years. Eventually the neighbors forgot and the Dixon boys pushed it to the back of their minds. 

There are more important things in the world than presentations status to two people just trying to get by in the place they should have been able to consider safest in the world.

Loud, wall-shaking footsteps echo down the hallway, rattling the door above Daryl’s head and snapping him out of the past. He rubs his abdomen, more to soothe himself than the baby who’s still far too small to feel his touch, and stares at that claw mark in the wall again, waiting for the hand to plunge through the light cracking under the door and drag him back out to hell again.


End file.
